moving forward yet tugged back a bit
I called CB just now to let her know I'm coming this week to start packing, in hopes I'll actually find an apartment before February. She hurt her arm, she didn't say how, but she went to the emergency room with it and it was in a splint, in a sling. She hasn't been working. She sounds completely sober, in more ways than one. She sounds grounded, like last time we talked, like I've never heard her before.
I don't want to go back, don't want to be with her, don't want to revisit any of it, but christ. Why do I feel like somebody's reached into my chest and squeezed my heart to the point of bruising?
I think of her there -- she's packed up everything throughout the house that was mine or that we bought together. The common areas are now completely devoid of anything I own even a partial stake in. The framed picture from the day we got married, I'm sure, was the first thing to go. It had been hanging in the living room among other framed pictures of us and her kids. The wall hangings we bought in Mexico last year. My rugs. What else? My drum. My cds from the wooden shelf under the stereo. My plants?
I think of her there, not working, worrying about money, unable to find a renter for my room, hurt arm, sober. It hurts to look back. I feel guilty. Did I behave irresponsibly? Should I have anticipated that I would eventually feel the need to depart. Is it still appropriate to blame her drinking? Because, in my mind, I've gone beyond her drinking to come to realize that we were not happy for a long time, for a lot of reasons. I have moved so far away, but still. There is pain that surprises me like an abrupt slap across the cheek. I hate it. But I have to accept that it is there and remember that it doesn't necessarilly indicate the need to *do* something, anything, different.
Ironically, I came into the coffeeshop after my conversation with CB and had an email from my counselor at school, just checking in and suggesting I make a follow-up appointment. Wonderful. The universe drops these nudges all the time, if you just open your eyes, there they are.
I don't want to go back, don't want to be with her, don't want to revisit any of it, but christ. Why do I feel like somebody's reached into my chest and squeezed my heart to the point of bruising?
I think of her there -- she's packed up everything throughout the house that was mine or that we bought together. The common areas are now completely devoid of anything I own even a partial stake in. The framed picture from the day we got married, I'm sure, was the first thing to go. It had been hanging in the living room among other framed pictures of us and her kids. The wall hangings we bought in Mexico last year. My rugs. What else? My drum. My cds from the wooden shelf under the stereo. My plants?
I think of her there, not working, worrying about money, unable to find a renter for my room, hurt arm, sober. It hurts to look back. I feel guilty. Did I behave irresponsibly? Should I have anticipated that I would eventually feel the need to depart. Is it still appropriate to blame her drinking? Because, in my mind, I've gone beyond her drinking to come to realize that we were not happy for a long time, for a lot of reasons. I have moved so far away, but still. There is pain that surprises me like an abrupt slap across the cheek. I hate it. But I have to accept that it is there and remember that it doesn't necessarilly indicate the need to *do* something, anything, different.
Ironically, I came into the coffeeshop after my conversation with CB and had an email from my counselor at school, just checking in and suggesting I make a follow-up appointment. Wonderful. The universe drops these nudges all the time, if you just open your eyes, there they are.
posted by reasonably prudent poet at 1:25 PM
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